


beasts (and how to rouse them)

by bukkunkun



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Play, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYOUMAAAA, IT'S LITERALLY JUST BIRTHDAY SEX HAHAHA WHAT AM I DOING, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, it's been ages since i wrote something sorry guys, started off really flashy and thoughtful you can tell i got lazy halfway smh @ myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6721531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was a beast but a man without inhibitions?</p><p>Written (rather hastily, half-asleep and nearing the midnight of May 1) for Ryouma-niisan's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beasts (and how to rouse them)

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday lobster niisama may your year be plentiful and may xander's ass be great ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> started off as something really thought provoking ish kinda (i was tryna write a xander character study beforehand and then i found out it was ryouma's birthday so i switched lanes IMMEDIATELY lmao) but then it turned into gross fluffy shit and dorks being dorks,,,,,,
> 
> edited softly (for like, 15 minutes and then i gave up lmao) so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> i haven't finished conquest yet what am i doing,,,,  
> also no, azura and corrin aren't married, jsyk
> 
> (@ reiji on fb, you da man, buddy, thanks for reminding me it was the lobster birth)

_ What was a beast but a man without inhibitions? _

Crystal shimmered in the bright light of the chandelier, and sparkling spirits swirled behind gilded gold and glass. Smiles were exchanged, idle chitchat was frivolous, about everything and nothing at the same time, and happiness buzzed in the air like insects in the humid afternoon of a Hoshidan summer.

Across the room, he saw him—the man of the hour, looking every inch the Hoshidan King he was in their traditional  _ kimono _ of a burning dark red, wild hair tamed into a ponytail like a corralled beast, a smirk on his face at the rim of a goblet far too small for his paws of hands, and his eyes were staring right at him, hot, with all the subtlety of a bull looking to charge a helpless target.

Swallowing thickly, feeling the burn of a spirit that had the buzzing begin in his ears a little too slowly, he turned his gaze away, to the sound of laughter like the tinkling of bells, and Corrin’s brilliant smile he’d once called the light of his day.

Now, it was just as radiant, glowing in the light of the Kingdom of Valla’s newly restored castle, an abode all of her own—and Azura’s—and yet.

And  _ yet _ .

Nothing paled to the cracking lightning in  _ his  _ smile. The booming thunder of his voice. The torrent of sheer  _ strength _ simply in the air around him.

If Corrin was the sun of his life, then by all means, Ryoma was the storm that could block it all away.

“Big brother,” she smiled at him, and for a moment, Xander almost answered her, when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, sliding down, surreptitious and quiet, like a snake, to the small of his back. Intimate, hidden, like a secret whispered in the throes of passion.

_ “I-I, love, y—Ryo _ — _ “ _

He flushed, dark in the brightness of Valla’s light, at the memory, at the sensation of Ryoma’s hands on him again, at the sound of the man’s rumbling voice right at his ear, breath tickling and hot at the curve of his neck, in the dip of the shell of his ear.

“Corrin.” His voice was sweet, saturated with fondness, and brittle with an unspoken  _ promise _ . “Thank you so much for hosting a banquet as beautiful as this.”

She smiled, saccharine, innocent, like the naivety in her eyes had never left. “Of course I had to! You’re very dear to me, big brother Ryoma.” Her eyes flickered to Xander, and she flushed adorably, the flute of champagne in her hand swishing precariously. “Of course, I love you too, big brother Xander.”

“Oh, no,” he found the voice in himself to speak, “My little princess loves a lobster lord over me.”

The smile he’d pulled on his face, he’d chalked up to the fact Corrin started giggling, later, but for now, it’d been because Ryoma’s hand had trailed lower on his back, fingers barely ghosting over the swell of his rear.

Had the man no decency, he wondered, but the thrill of being seen sent sparks of shame and pleasure burning under his skin.

This man would be the  _ death _ of him.

“I’m appalled, Xander,” Ryoma chuckled, his name a sultry purr to his ears and a warm term of affection to Corrin’s, “A lobster? Surely I’m a lot more attractive than that.”

“And the princes’ vanity reigns again,” the voice, roughened with war, laughter and more than a few drinks, drifted like petals towards them, and Xander turned to see Hinoka striding towards them, Azura in tow. The diadem atop her head suited her—a pure white, to match Corrin’s deep blue. “Azura wanted to greet you,” she said, gesturing to the songstress, who gave him a polite smile.

“Happy birthday, Prince Ryoma.” Her voice was still small, unlike the power it held, and her cousin’s smile widened.

“Azura,” Corrin beckoned her over, “They’re bickering over me again,” she whined, and at that Xander and Ryoma shared a fond laugh as the other Queen of Valla gave her a pinch to the cheek.

“Don’t go starting a new war, Corrin.” She mildly told her, and turned back to the two men. Her gaze lingered on where Ryoma’s hand was hidden behind Xander’s back, and when she tore her eyes away, Xander felt like she’d seen right through him, like he was the one made of glass, not her. It left him feeling raw, and exposed, and the fire under his skin lit up like a livewire. “Now then, Corrin, let’s tend to our other guests; we can’t keep Prince Ryoma all to ourselves.”

She ushered the other Queen away, leaving only a quick smile, a brief nod and a giggle over her shoulder at them, and Ryoma finally let his hand slide further down to firmly cup its heat right over Xander’s rear. The blond jumped slightly, feeling more than hearing the chuckle that rumbled through Ryoma’s chest as it pressed against his back, his hand hidden away from the ballroom’s view.

“You’ve been staring.” Ryoma murmured into his ear.

“And you’re being cheeky.” The levelness in his voice was practiced, clinical, like a tense discussion between two princes in a war meeting. He ground his hips back, pressing back into Ryoma’s touch and into his groin, and the Hoshidan groaned into his ear, rutting against him unconsciously. Xander laughed lowly. “This isn’t my gift to you, you know?”

“Tight, provocative clothing and barely the main prize?” Ryoma huffed, “I must be the luckiest man alive.”

“Indeed you are.” Xander replied, suddenly moving off Ryoma’s hand, leaving him feeling much, much colder, and a whole lot emptier. “You’re lucky enough to not have my sword pointed at your throat, at least.”

The shorter man raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Oh, I’ve had other things of yours pointed at me before.”

“How vulgar.” Xander spat, but there was no venom, only promises, of heat, of something both of them had been thirsting for ever since the night began. Something even the finest wines of Valla could not curb.

Ryoma simply hummed, amused, and Xander gave him a slow smirk, and a peer beneath hooded eyes.

“Later, you spoiled King. You’ll get your present later.”

The brunet rushed forward to touch him again, and the blond pressed a finger to the man’s throat.

“And no touching.” He added, in a low whisper, and he swears he could hear Ryoma  _ growl _ . “That’s a good boy.”

Xander turned on his heel, and he could feel his eyes boring into his back, tearing off his clothes, wild, animalistic, and  _ savage _ .

He shivered with anticipation.

_ What was a man but a beast with inhibitions? _

* * *

Xander watched his beast the whole evening, watched him stalk his prey like a monster hungry for flesh and blood, and he was on edge. Nerves lit and sparking like fireworks, Xander could feel every rush of blood under his skin, every flame that sparked and ignited, and calmed, and it was  _ exhilarating _ .

Corrin had seated them together at the banquet table, and they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Above the table were two respected kings, discussing politics and their adoptive sister and plans for the future, and beneath it—

Ryoma’s hand was tracing infinity-loops on the inside of Xander’s thighs, planning out a map he planned to draw with his lips and teeth on pale skin, every brush of his finger a silent, fiery promise that he’d milk every single sweet sound right out of Xander’s lips.

Xander took a bolder approach—his hand was indecently slipped inside Ryoma’s kimono, curled in a loose fist around his cock barely straining his fundoshi as he began to stroke him to hardness.

The smirk that graced Xander’s lips began to widen as Ryoma’s grip on his thigh hardened, the smile he’d plastered on his face growing increasingly tighter as the member in Xander’s hand began to twitch in response to his ministrations.

The evening ended with many of the guests bidding Ryoma their last greetings and farewells, and the Nohrian and Hoshidan royal siblings were all invited to stay the night there. Immediately Sakura stuck to Elise’s side, and Camilla took it upon herself to take care of a rather buzzed Hinoka. Takumi followed after Leo with a shrug, and Xander and Ryoma were left standing in the hallway together with Corrin when silence fell again.

“I hope you two don’t mind sharing a room,” she told them, rubbing her arm the way she used to when she was little, and Xander gave her a reassuring pat on the head.

“We’ll be fine.” He told her gently, and Ryoma grunted.

“Absolutely.” He agreed, and Corrin nodded, giving them a smile.

“Alright, then.” She told them, giving them a tiny wave. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, little princess.”

Xander barely heard the sound of his and Ryoma’s door opening, noticing more the vice-like grip Ryoma had on his arm as he was suddenly dragged inside, and the next thing he knew he was slammed tight against the door, the full weight of muscle pinning him to the cold wood as lips stole what little wind he had left in his lungs.

Hands wandered over his body, tracing burning paths up his sides, along his arms and down his back, until they came to a rest at his ass, groping them tight with a desperation and wildness that Xander absolutely  _ loved  _ to see.

The calm, steadfast ruler of Hoshido, reduced to a growling, desperate beast in the blink of an eye. The change was addicting, and knowing  _ he  _ had the power of it…  _ intoxicating _ .

Ryoma pulled back, panting, eyes wild and wide to stare at Xander, flicking down to admire the way his lips swelled.

“Why, Prince Xander,” he growled, “The way your lips swell like a whore’s suits you so very well.”

Xander shivered, shame burning his cheeks the way his loins stirred to life, and he bucked against Ryoma’s unyielding bulk.

“And you’re eager like one.” He continued, “I’m beginning to wonder if a whore’s life is better suited for a dirty little royal like you are.”

“Your present, Ryoma,” Xander cut in, breathless, “This is… this… is  _ your _ present, not…”

The roughness, the beast in Ryoma’s eyes gave away to the lover that held him tight during their first night together, the man who held his hand in a shake vowing peace in their nations, the friend that he exchanged secrets with, and the brunet planted a chaste kiss to his temple.

“Pleasing you, Xander, is already more than enough pleasure to me.” He murmured against his skin, and his chest billowed out with warmth and love.

“Gods, Ryoma…” he let out a huff, a tiny laugh, full of affection. “But really. Tonight, just—be rough with me. Use me like a toy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Always.”

“You know what to say to make me stop.”

“You know what to say to make me moan.”

At that Ryoma chuckled, pressing one soft kiss on his lips once more, and the beast in his touch, his eyes, his breath—his  _ being _ —returned.

“I’m going to take whatever I want from you tonight,” he growled, one hand fisting in Xander’s hair, and the blond moaned in agreement. “I am your King; bow down before me.”

He pulled Xander along towards the bed, applying just the right amount of pull to his hair not to be excruciating, but just on the sharp side of painful, and Xander followed him obediently, dropping to his knees as Ryoma sat down, legs already parted, perfectly framing Xander as he crawled forward to sit between them.

“Go on, finish what you’ve started.” He ordered, moving aside his kimono to reveal his half-hard cock, straining against the fundoshi, now mussed due to Xander’s ministrations, and the blond practically jumped forward to free it from its bonds, stroking it languidly from root to tip once, before swallowing down half. Ryoma let out an approving hiss, fist bunching in Xander’s hair as the blond began to suck with gusto, choking slightly and tearing up. The Hoshidan began to roll his hips, thrusting shallowly into that delicious warmth, watching intently as his cock sank in between swollen lips, greedily taking him in.

“You’re doing better than before. You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?” he choked back a groan as Xander moaned around his cock, his eyes squeezing shut at the sound of Ryoma’s cracking voice. Power, crumbling into dust, all at the pleasure he was getting from his mouth. “Sucking cock like you were made for it. What would your subjects say, o King Xander of Nohr?” he thrust once, harshly, into Xander’s mouth, pushing in an inch more of his cock than he was used to, and the choke (not a single sign of the safe word, Ryoma carefully noted) was nearly enough to get him to come right then and there. “What would Nohr say to the sight of this? A King, taking cock like the little slut he is. Oh, the shame.”

Xander knew better than to touch himself, Ryoma hadn’t told him to, but Gods, he could come right then and there. His hands bunched into tight, white-knuckled fists in Ryoma’s kimono.

And they were both still fully dressed.

They’d needed this, hadn’t they—it’d been far too long.

(When you were in love, after all, a week could feel like years.)

“That’s enough.” Ryoma roughly pulled Xander back, revelling in the line of spit that connected the head to his lips, and in the way Xander coughed. “Bed.”

Obediently, the blond followed his order, shucking off his shoes in time to see Ryoma quickly pull his kimono off—Hoshidan clothes were always much easier to handle, he thought—and yet he wasn’t fast enough to avoid getting pushed down into the bed, the bulk of Ryoma’s body a very tangible weight pushing him down into the mattress, aside from the overwhelming presence of the man himself.

“Too slow.” Ryoma’s voice was predatory; a beast that had caught its prey, readying to tear it to shreds with a swipe of a claw.

There was a beat of silence, and he whispered softly, “I will tear your clothes.”

Consent. He was asking for…

Oh, Xander could not love him any harder, but he  _ did _ .

“Yes,” he replied breathlessly, nodding desperately, “Please,”

And the beast returned. Wild, savage eyes, hungry, and hands, powerful and so  _ huge, _ like paws, grasped the silk of Xander’s vest and  _ tore _ it with a satisfying  _ rip _ without so much as a grunt of effort. The sheer display of power made the blond shiver delightedly, as Ryoma made quick work of his clothes like they were made of delicate Hoshidan paper, before diving forward to capture his mouth in a heated kiss, more teeth and tongue than the brush of lips together, and he swallowed Xander’s moans greedily as he kissed the air out of him.

He remembered the map he’d been drawing on Xander’s thigh. He would make good on his promise.

He trailed down, leaving bite marks and kisses and bruises down the column of his neck to the beat of his heart’s thudding in his veins, to the hiccups in his breaths, to the sharp cuts of his moans. Every moment of it, an orchestrated masterpiece of lust as he peppered kisses to his pectoral, flicking at his nipples to get them to pebble before diving at one to lick and suck, drinking in the King’s moans as he worked. When one was tender, he moved on to the other one, leaving bite marks on the skin taut over tight muscle, and when he was satisfied, Ryoma leant back to admire his handiwork—Xander’s throat, all the way down to his pectorals, were covered in hickeys, in bite marks and angry red marks, and Xander himself was shivering, overstimulated, lower lip caught between his teeth in a desperate bite.

“You’re beautiful like this.” He murmured, and Xander could only let out a mumbled sound of confusion, but he shook his head, and continued downwards to do the same on Xander’s thighs. By the end of it all, he had Xander’s legs propped up on his shoulders, the man beneath him a shivering, shaking mess, and his cock stood tall to attention, angry red, and leaking profusely, still untouched since the very beginning. Ryoma grinned a little at that, biting the soft flesh where his torso met leg, and Xander gave him a weak whimper.

“Where’s the salve?” he asked, and Xander shook his head.

“There’s… no… need…”

Ryoma’s eyes widened, and he looked down, and surely enough—

The end of a butt plug greeted his sight at Xander’s entrance, and his grin widened.

“This is an utterly wonderful birthday gift, Xander.” He purred, reaching down to pull it out, only to let out a barking laugh. It was the jade plug he’d given Xander over the winter as a half-meant joke, and a smile crossed Xander’s face as he threw his hand over his eyes.

“Oh, Ryoma.” He sighed, huffing out in laughter, and the men’s play faded away, just like that. “That is… an incredibly corny thing to say.”

“Hush,” Ryoma chuckled, giving Xander a stroke to keep him interested, and the blond hissed approvingly at sweet, sweet friction on his cock. “I’m sorry for ruining the mood.”

“Worse has happened,” Xander chuckled, and exhaled deeply as Ryoma slid in. The warmth, the stretch, the  _ burn _ was like coming home, and both of them groaned softly as their hips connected. “Oh, I’ve missed this.”

“As have I.” Ryoma huffed back, “Should I…?”

“Gods,  _ yes _ .” Xander grit his teeth. “Before I come and we all regret something.”

Ryoma snorted, laughing, and began to languidly roll his hips, and soon Xander fell silent, feeling every inch of Ryoma slide inside him.

Soon the pace began to pick up, and Ryoma and Xander settled back into their usual pace—fast, hard, nearly  _ brutal _ , and they were right back where they left off, setting a fast pace. Each thrust the Hoshidan king had into Xander sent the bed frame creaking in protest, fine wood hitting the wall in a staccato of  _ thud-thud-thud _ in time with the snap of Ryoma’s hips. He adjusted to an angle long memorised, buried deep and clear in sight as Xander’s moans escalated, garbled diminutives of Ryoma’s name like music in the tune of Xander’s wrecked voice. Sparks flew behind Xander’s eyes as he screwed them tight, Ryoma assaulting that sweet little bundle of nerves deep inside him with a beast-like ferocity that only he, and no Hoshidan or Nohrian toy could offer, and he felt himself drawing nearer and nearer to the edge of sharp reality, and bursting pleasure. 

“I-I, R-Ryom—” his name shattered at a particularly vicious thrust, and strong hands lifted his thick thighs higher, parting them wider, and a thick body pushed him down harder into the bed. 

The sheer dominance Ryoma had over him. Oh, gods, he'd missed this. 

“I'm—I'm going to—”

“Just… go.” Ryoma grunted, “I’m… close behind.” He reached down, jerking him off hard between them.

Xander let out a strangled gasp, coming in ribbons of white over Ryoma’s fist, painting their stomachs, and Ryoma let out a curse in Hoshidan, coming hard inside Xander. The two of them fell still, panting heavily as they came down from their high. Lazily Ryoma picked up what he could of the scraps of clothing that used to be Xander’s shirt, and wiped them both down clean, before slumping down next to his lover, hugging him close from behind like a pillow.

“I think…” Ryoma managed after a long moment of content silence. “I liked your present the best.”

Xander chuckled, sure the soreness would come the next day, and his cock, limp and spent, twitched at the thought of it. “Of  _ course _ you would.” He drawled, “Failed play and all.”

“Failed play and all.” Ryoma agreed, kissing his shoulder tenderly, butterfly lips a stark contrast to his earlier roughness, leaving the ghost of a sting on the bruising skin he'd kissed. “You wear my marks like jewelry.”

“Only because I've had only the finest jeweller to dress me in them.” The blind replied without skipping a beat, and Ryoma laughed, turning him around to kiss him soundly. Xander smiled into the man's kiss, and hummed softly. “Happy birthday, Ryoma.”

“Thank you.” The brunet murmured against his lips, and pulled Xander closer to his chest, where he could hear every beat of his heart. He placed a hand on one firm pectoral, and sighed. 

“I love you.”

“And I, you, Xander.” Ryoma replied softly. “Truly, though. You're the best gift the gods have given me.”

Xander chuckled, the dredges of sleep finally catching up on his tired, dated body. 

“And you, for me, as well.” He replied sleepily, feeling more than seeing Ryoma’s smile as he kissed his hair, and both kings settled comfortably down to welcome sleep. 


End file.
